New Kid on the Field
by TheFbrz
Summary: Myka Patterson is forced to move the summer before Junior year. When her dad surprises her with an in at her new school, with one of her favorite things, she jumps at the chance. *The chapters are VERY short, but I'll update with two or three at a time, hopefully often!
1. 1 Myka

"We're WHAT?" I yell.

"The promotion is all or nothing. It's either take the job and move or be unemployed and stay," Dad explains.

"I don't want to move. _Everything_ is here! My_ friends_ are here! My_ school_ is here! My _band_ is here! My_ boyfriend_ is here!" I continue yelling.

"Myka, honey, I understand that," Dad assures me. "But there's nothing I can do. We don't have a choice. We have to move."

"YOU don't have a choice! You're doing this because you want to ruin my life!" I dash out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaping onto my bed as tears stream down my face. I know that he isn't trying to ruin my life, that he had no other choice, but I still don't want to move. Ever since we had moved to Dayton when I was twelve, I've struggled to fit in. In the sixth grade, I found Jill, and we had become instant friends, sitting next to each other in band and history. Ryan had found me when he moved into the apartment below us at the beginning of eighth grade and showed up in my math class, dazzling me with his blue eyes and athleticism. Patrick was an outcast two years ahead of me who had wandered into my life during band my freshman year and had become a big brother to me. I cry into my pillow, trying to imagine starting over again at a new school without any of them by my side.

Five months later, I stand on the sidewalk outside our apartment building watching Dad wrestle the last box into the trailer before sliding the door down and slamming the lock shut. He half-hugs Jill goodbye. "Take care, young man," he advises the boys as he shakes their hands. Dad nods to me and climbs into his truck, leaving me to say my goodbyes.

Jill immediately runs into my arms, tears starting to roll down her face. "I love you, Myka. I'm going to miss you so much. I just want you to stay here." She pauses to whimper and sniffle a bit before pulling away and wiping her face. "But you have to go and we have to deal." Her melancholy rationalizing turns to anger as she laughs, "Don't you dare lose touch with me, lady."

I laugh, which helps to keep the tears at bay, and nod before she lets me move on to Patrick. From the day I met him, he's been the big brother I never had. He pulls me in to the warmth and safety of his chest and rests his chin on my head as he usually does. Unlike usual, however, he just holds me. After a few moments, he whispers, "Here's lookin' at you, kid." In those words, I feel everything that he means: _You're going to do amazing out there, but don't forget about us. I'm really gonna miss you._ He continues to hold me for a bit longer before kissing the top of my head and passing me off to Ryan.

My boyfriend stands with his hands in his pockets, his blue eyes locked on mine. A long moment passes before he takes a step toward me, wrapping his fingers around mine, rubbing my hand with his thumb. "I miss you already," he whispers, pulling me into his arms. His hug is the longest, but still ends too soon. He leans down to kiss me gently and I miss him as soon as he pulls away.

"I love you," I tell them, backing away toward the truck. They nod knowingly and watch, their eyes full of sadness as I open the door and climb into the truck. They wave as we pull away. I watch them until we turn the corner at the end of the street and they disappear from view.


	2. 2 Myka

Dad wakes me five hours later as we pull into our new apartment complex. We've never lived in a complex before. It's always been a building on a street or a set of rooms above a business. I sit in the truck as Dad goes into the office to get the key and apartment number. A man comes outside to smoke a cigarette under the porchlight. Two kids walk past with a dog and a flashlight. When Dad gets back in the truck, I don't acknowledge him. He pulls around to another emptier part of the parking lot and turns off the truck. Without speaking, I grab my backpack and follow Dad.

He takes us down a path to a large pond where a few ducks sit near the water. He unlocks out new apartment and opens the door for me. I climb the stairs into an open room with nothing but carpeting, a ceiling fan, a modest kitchen, and an unimpressive fireplace. A glass door opens onto a small balcony. I explore the other rooms-a master bedroom with a bathroom and walk-in closet, a small bathroom with a laundry room the size of a postage stamp, and my room, which is not a bad size. It's actually one of the nicer apartments we've had.

I toss my stuff into my room and go to shower. Though the warm water is relaxing, tears roll down my cheeks. I miss my friends, my school, my room, Ryan... It will take a long time for this place to feel like home. It's hard to breathe for a few minutes as I just stand under the water crying. I stay in the shower for a long time before I hear Dad knock softly on the door. "Myka, honey, I made some food."

The prospect of something to eat snaps me out of it. I quickly finish up and get out of the shower, donning a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt Ryan had given me. I find Dad sitting on the floor, leaning on the living room wall, eating noodles out of a plastic bowl. He had brought in two boxes-one of food, one containing the microwave-and his duffel bag. "Here," he says, holding out a second bowl of Ramen Noodles. We eat in silence for a few minutes before-"So what do you think?"

I glare at him, "Of what?"

He shrugs, "The apartment. What do you think?"

"I mean, it's fine. It'd be better if we had our furniture and shit in here."

"Well, of course."

"Or if were still back in Lawrence."

He grimaces. "Myka, you know there was nothing I could do."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Myka, be reasonable."

"Dad, I'm being reasonable. I just need some time, okay?" When he hesitates, I continue, "Really, Dad, I'm fine."

He smiles sadly at me, "You can talk to me anytime, honey."

_"Dad."_

"Okay," he retreats, raising his hands in surrender.

I narrow my eyes at him, stand up and put my bowl in the sink before walking into my room and closing the door. I roll my sleeping bag out on the floor and crawl into it. My phone beeps, indicating new messages, so I plug it in to charge and open them.

From: Ryan Message: I love you...

From: Jill Message: You left your hoodie here. I miss you.

I turn my phone off without replying and fall quickly asleep.


	3. 3 Myka

The next morning, Dad wakes me up at eight o'clock. Realizing where I am, I sigh, turn my phone on, and, seeing the time, proceed to toss the phone across the room and go back to sleep. Around 8:30, I awake once more, this time to cold water on my face. Dad had broken out the squirt guns again. Considering the options-stay in bed and risk him finding a bucket vs get up now and take a nap later-I roll out of my sleeping bag and pull my hair up.

When he realizes I am really getting up, Dad retreats from my room. I can hear him moving around in the kitchen, making more noise than usual. I stumble out of my room and sit down at the kitchen table.

Wait, kitchen table?

I blink a few times, looking down at it in disbelief. Furniture already? I dare a glance around the room. My dresser, the pieces of my bed frame, and my desk sit among ten or twelve white boxes and plastic totes carefully labeled, "Kitchen," and "Myka."

"Dad, where's all your stuff? Where did you have time to bring all this up here?" I ask him gently.

"Tossed and turned all night. Finally got up at five and started bringing things in. I figured you needed your stuff more than I needed mine," he shrugs. "I can live out of a duffel for another day or so." When he sits a toaster strudel in front of me, I tune him out. The icing is spread in the spread in the shape of a house with a little stick figure father and daughter. I roll my eyes and scarf it down. "After you're done, we can start putting together your furniture." I nod and chug my milk. He begins to drag my dresser into my room.

As I put my dishes in the sink, the doorbell rings. I walk down the stairs to the door, wondering who it could possibly be. I open the door to find an extremely attractive boy standing on my doorstep with two boxes labeled "Myka - Books" in Dad's barely-legible scrawl. "Um, hi," I start, immediately self-concious of my messy top knot and my baggy pajama pants.

He smiles weakly from behind the giant stack, "Hi, could you move?"

"Um..." I move to the side, pulling the door open wider. "Yeah..." I mumble as he hops up the stairs. I close the door and follow him up, reaching the top of the stairs just in time to see him set the boxes down.

Dad steps out of the bedroom. "Thanks, Chase," then noticing me: "Oh, Myka! This is Chase. Chase, my daughter Myka."

The tall blonde kid turns to look at me with bright blue eyes and smiles brightly, "Hey."

"Um, hi," I say, searching for what to say next. "Where did-what are-who are you?"

"Myka," Dad starts.

Chase laughs, "No, it's fine. I live in the next building. I saw your dad unloading when I went running this morning, and after I got back and showered, I started helping him."

I nod, still somewhat suspicious. "Well...thanks? Nice to meet you?" I pick up the pieces of my bookshelf and carry them into my room, closing the door behind me. On my own, I assemble my beloved bookcase.

A few minutes later, Dad comes in with a box of my books and sits down on the floor. "That was kind of rude, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but you can't expect me to know how to react when you drag a teenage boy into helping us move in."

"I didn't drag him into it. He volunteered. Actually, he didn't even do that. He just picked up a box and followed me. He's fine. He just wants to help."

I pause, contemplating the situation. A teenage boy who wants to help these random strangers move into their apartment must either be super dorky, have no friends, or just be a complete loser, attractive or not. "Dad, I just want to move in fully before I start meeting people." I finish putting together the shelf, and Dad begins handing me books to place on it.

A thick packet, folded in half, falls out of a book. I pick it up and look at it. It's several pages of sheet music. _Oakville High School Marching Band, Mellophone 2_

Realizing what it is, I look up at Dad. "Please tell me you're not screwing with me."

He smiles, "Why would I screw with you about this?"

I throw my arms around him. "But how? I don't even understand! These require auditions and lessons and lots of advance notice!"

He laughs, "Right after I found out I was getting a job transfer, the first thing I did was figure out where we would be living and where you would be going to school. I called the school and talked to the band director. He was hesitant at first, but after he saw video of you last season and heard recordings of you playing, he was sold. Rehearsals start July 14th."

I stare down at the music, laughing in disbelief. With another marching season ahead, maybe it won't be so bad living here after all.


	4. 4 Myka

"He's in band, too, you know," Dad points out over dinner later.

"Who?" I inquire through a mouthful of burrito.

"Chase," he admits smugly.

"Why are you so obsessed with him?" I wonder aloud.

"I just have a good feeling about him is all."

I glance quizzically at him before returning to my food. After dinner, I start in on the show music. Technically, it's somewhat demanding, with quick runs and extremely long phrases. Stylistically, it isn't too complicated-a march style here, a melodramatic ballad, a fanfare call/response idea, the same typical theme. I have been playing for less than ten minutes when I hear a knocking from the floor and a voice yelling for me to stop. A quick look at the clock tells me that I'm probably interrupting primetime television or just their evening quiet time in general, that is, until a driving bass began thumping up from below. Our downstairs neighbors are having a party. Go figure.

Dad knocks twice on my bedroom door, and I let him in. "Sweetie, you might wanna wrap it up and start thinking about going to bed. Early morning tomorrow."

"Early morning? For what?" He hadn't mentioned anything about what's happening tomorrow.

"Registration and uniform fitting tomorrow morning for you. 7AM to noon, but we also have a long day of moving in ahead of us."

The words, minus the part about moving, are music to my ears. I rush to put my horn back into its case and get ready for bed. After showering and getting all tucked into my sleeping bag on top of my mattress (The sheets are in one of the many still-packed boxes), I close my eyes and dream.

In my dream, I'm standing on a football field in the middle of a block of faceless people. The drum major counts off and as I step off, the tiny, empty high school stadium suddenly becomes Lucas Oil Stadium filled with thousands of fans. The show is all a blur of highs and lows, step-offs and halts, and as I come to my final horns down, the crowd goes wild.

Just like that, I wake up to sunlight streaming through my window. 8AM, my phone tells me. I get up and get dressed, then head out to the kitchen. Dad hands me a banana, muttering, "Come on, we're late." We dash to get out of the apartment, me excited as I ever have been, him trying to remember his checkbook and about a million other things.

As we drive to the high school, I can barely contain myself. It's so surreal: I'm going to be back in band!


	5. 5 Myka

I step into a hallway filled with people: skinny, short freshmen with parents asking a million questions; seniors twirling their cars keys around their fingers, tapping their feet impatiently, just wanting to get their stuff and get out. Dad leafed through the schedule and handbook, occasionally marking it. We haven't been in line very long when we get into the band room. At the far end of the room, four long racks of uniforms sit behind a couple of long tables where several Uniform Moms are fitting and signing out uniforms to kids. Against the back wall, beneath a large plywood banner painted to resemble Van Gogh's Starry Night, two boys in band shirts sign out shakos. Directly in front of us, behind a table sits who I assume are the band directors-a very thin, very tan guy in a Chelsea jersey and a large man in a sweater vest. They are collecting paperwork and handing out school-issued instruments to those in need of them.

"So you're the famous Myka Patterson," Chelsea Jersey Man says to me. "I'm Mr. Bradfield, head band director, and this," he turned to the larger man, "is our assistant director, Mr. Pakowski. Welcome to Oakville Band."

I smile, "Thanks very much."

"You can go pick up your hat and your uniform over yonder," Kowalksi directs me as he sets my mellophone upon the table.

Dad stays to ask them a few questions as I sneak over to the table where the boys are assigning shakos.

"Do you know what size you are?" the dark haired kid asks. "Or are you new?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Medium."

Behind the table, the other boy stands up and sets a hatbox on the table. He looks up from the papers at me and says, "Myka."

"Chase," I acknowledge him.

The dark haired kid looks back and forth between us, confused, before shaking his head and giving up. Chase writes down my initials on a sticker and sticks it on the inside of the hat, then carefully writes my name on the box label. As he writes he says, "Oh, this is Tyler, by the way. Another one of our Drum Majors. Kylie is our third, but she's out of town."

I nod, "Sweet. Thanks."

"Um...so..." he begins, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah?" I ask. Tyler busies himself by helping a freshman find the right size.

"Need any more help moving in?" He smiles awkwardly.

I laugh, "Sure. Stop by whenever. We'll probably be there."

"Okay, awesome." A bright smile spreads across his face. "I'll see you then."

I nod and turn to go, heat spreading across my cheeks as I hear Tyler whisper, "Dude, you_ like_ her."

"Shut up, man," Chase laughs and punches him in the shoulder.

A Uniform Mom asks me how tall I am, so I tell her. While she is pulling a few uniforms for me to try on, Dad catches up to me. "This is hardcore," he states simply.

I look at him inquisitively and nod once. The UM comes back. I slip my shoes off and pull the bibs up over my shorts. They're a little long and the waist falls wrong, so the UM shortens the straps. "How do those feel?" she asks.

"Now they're perfect," I observe, noticing the huge difference that the tiny adjustment made. "Is the hem okay?"

"The hem is fine. Try this jacket."

I slip my arms into the sleeves and turn for her to zip it for me. The collar was loose enough and the sleeves were fine. "Yeah, it's great." I throw my arms up and move around a little, making sure I can move in it. It fits like a glove. The Uniform Mom signs it out to me as I take it off and slip it into a garment bag. I sign the ledger, and Dad and I are on our way.


	6. 6 Myka

"So you're a Drum Major." It's more of a statement than a question. Chase and I are putting dishes away into cabinets as Dad puts together his bedroom. After registration, I came home and helped Dad bring in his furniture. A while after that, Chase came by and started helping. It went way faster after that. It turns out he's not only cute, but good to talk to, too!

He laughs, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, still not really sure how that happened...I think I just worked hard enough and I got to be good enough the past three years that he thought I deserved it." Chase shrugs.

I wonder aloud, "What do you even play?"

"Clarinet, actually." When I laugh, he continues, "Hey, now. It's a great instrument. And I was good at it, too."

"Seriously? I had you pegged as more of a trumpet or saxophone."

He wrinkles his nose. "Trumpet's not my favorite. There's just a lot of surplus ego that's not really my style. Also, whenever I played it, I wasn't good at all. It was a problem. I like sax though, especially for jazz."

I laugh, "Poor Chase can only play two instruments."

"Um, five, actually. Guitar, piano, violin..." He rubs the back of his neck.

I gape at him, "Are you, like, perfect?"

He looks at me inquisitively, "What?"

"Like what do you do? Do you just practice all the time?"

Chase hesitates, looking down at the box he's almost done unpacking. "I mean...no. I really don't." I start to speak, but he continues. "Sure, I practice a lot, but not like every moment..." He trails off.

An awkward silence follows. I break it by saying, "I wasn't trying to offend you. I think it's great that you are so into it. It's way better than being obsessed with video games or sports like so many of these guys today are."

He nods, "I just really like it."

I nod. Silence falls over us. We continue unpacking boxes for a few minutes before Chase opens his mouth to speak again. Before he can even get any words out, we hear a crash and a yelp come from Dad's room, followed by him Dad yelling for me. Chase and I rush in to see Dad on the floor with his left leg pinned under the bookshelf. He's shaking in pain, and some blood is running onto the carpet. Unable to speak through the pain, he raises his hand to his face, signaling to call 911.

Chase is way ahead of him. He already has his phone to his face and is calmly telling the operator the address. "His left leg is pinned under a heavy bookshelf. The bone seems to be broken, maybe even shattered. I can't really tell." He pauses to listen to the operator, then says, "okay," and pulls the phone away from his ear. "Myka, we have to get the shelf off and then we need something to stop the flow of blood."

I nod silently and go to find a towel in the bathroom. When I return, Chase lifts the shelf straight up a few inches and moves it to the side. He snatches the towel from my hand and presses it against the gash. All I can focus on is the blood on the edge of the shelf and the blood staining the cream colored carpet. I can't move from shock.

Dad is hurt.  
Dad is bleeding.  
Dad is broken.  
What do I do?  
_What do I do?_

"Myka. _Myka. _Myka!"

I snap out of my thoughts. Chase is trying to give me instructions. Before he even says anything else, I hear the sirens and realize what he's asking.

My vision is wavy as I step out of the room and attempt to descend the stairs. I push our front door open and brace myself against the doorway. The EMTs are already running down the path toward me. "My Dad. Upstairs," I gasp, still holding onto the doorframe to keep myself vertical. They rush past me, up the stairs to the bedroom, where I can hear them talking to Chase as they start to treat Dad. I try to go back up the stairs, but everything swings back and forth in front of my eyes. By the time I pull myself together to the point where I can go back up, the paramedics already have him on a stretcher and are maneuvering him down the steps.

Chase takes my arm and leads me toward the ambulance, pulling the apartment door closed behind us. We watch them load him up and close the doors. As they begin to drive away, I sway back and forth. He catches me before I completely collapse.

The next thing I know, I'm sitting in the passenger's seat of a blue Ford Fusion, racing toward St. Anthony Medical Center. Chase is weaving in and out of traffic on the highway. I look down at my hands, then out at the road, over at Chase, back to my hands, and then realize it's extremely hot in the car. I adjust the vents toward me and turn the AC blower up. Laying my head back against the seat, I close my eyes, hoping I'll wake up in my bed realizing that this was all a horrible, bizarre nightmare.


	7. 7 Myka

Chase and I sit in the hospital waiting room. It feels like we've been sitting here for hours, but it's really only been about twenty minutes. A doctor comes out. "Myka Patterson?"

"Yes?" I jump out of my chair. Chase stands up slowly.

"Well, first of all, your father is going to be okay." At those words, I relax a little. He continues, "His tibia is shattered, which is a serious problem. The gash was a result of the impact and not of the break, thankfully. He's in surgery now. It's going to take a plate and a couple of screws to set the bone pieces. His recovery time will probably be several months. That's really all that we know right now."

I thank him and return to sitting where I was before. The spots on my vision finally go away. Chase sits back down next to me and puts an arm around my shoulders. I lean my head against him. "I'm sorry this ruined your day."

He turns to look at me. "Really, it's fine. Are you okay?"

I nod. "I think I am now. I just don't know what I would've done if you hadn't been there."

He smiles, "It was really no problem."

My phone rings. "It's Ryan," I absentmindedly say out loud. Chase looks quizzically at me. "My boyfriend." Chase raises his eyebrows. I hold up a finger and answer the phone.

"Hey gorgeous," Ryan greets me.

"Um, hey, Ryan. What's up?" I say nervously, glancing at Chase.

"Not much. Missing you. You know, the usual."

"Well, um, it's really not a good time right now…"

"Not a good time? It's always a good time for me, babe." His persistence, one of my favorite things about him, was starting to get irritating.

"Ryan, no. I'm at the hospital. My Dad's in surgery."

"Oh my G—" _Click._

Of course the second something that _matters_ comes up, he hangs up on me. Such a Ryan thing to do.

"Is everything okay?" Chase leans toward me.

"Oh, just Ryan being a douchebag. The usual."

He furrows his brow. "Then why are you with him?"

I sigh. "He's a sweetheart, really. He just isn't always helpful."

"But you stay with him anyway." It isn't a question, but a statement.

"I mean, yeah. I love him."

"Do you?"

I stare at him for a moment before leaning back in my chair. I try to fall asleep, just so that I can stop thinking about what he said, but I can't, so I just stare at the ceiling. I begin to count the dots on the ceiling tiles. A moment later, I'm waking up to Chase gently shaking my shoulder and calling my name.

"Myka, wake up, it's time to go home."

"No!" I sleepily fight back, pushing him away and curling up tighter on my chair.

"Myka, come on," he presses.

"I wanna see Dad."

"Myka, he's sleeping. He's still under the anesthetic."

"I wanna see him!"

"Fine." Chase stands up and pulls me up out of my chair. I stumble a little bit, still trying to wake up.

"How long was I asleep?" I wonder aloud.

"An hour or so. The doctor just came out to say that your Dad was out of surgery and resting in his room. He'll be able to come home probably tomorrow or the next day, he said." Chase leads me down the hallway into a room.

Dad lays in a hospital bed, his leg wrapped in an enormous green cast up to just above his knee, elevated three or four inches above the bed with pillows. He's fast asleep. Satisfied that Dad is okay, resting safely in the hospital, I agree to let Chase take me home.

By the time we get back to the apartments, it's getting dark outside and I'm starting to fall asleep again. Chase wakes me up again and walks me up to my room.

"You're sure you're okay?" He asks for about the thousandth time.

"Chase, I'm not really sure of anything, but I think I'll be fine," I assure him.

He looks at me for a long time before saying, "Okay, well, I'll see you tomorrow then."

I nod, "See you tomorrow."

He goes back to his apartment as I head up to my room and fall asleep, fully clothed, in the middle of my bed.


	8. 8 Myka

When I wake, sunlight is already streaming through the windows. That's odd. Dad never usually lets me sleep this late. I lay in bed for a moment, listening for the sounds of Dad making breakfast, but I hear only the birds outside my window and the silence of the apartment. That's when I remember.

I take a deep breath and sit up. My phone tells me that it's almost 10:30. After a few moments, I get up and go shower. I stand under the hot water for a long time just thinking about things. Chase. Dad. Oakville. Before I come to any conclusions, I get out of the shower and get dressed. I rummage through the cabinets looking for something to eat, but nothing I find seems appetizing.

I look up and all I can see is the door at the top of the stairs. It's standing ajar and the light is shining through the crack like something from a horror movie. Suddenly, I find myself walking toward it, pushing the door open. There are several drops of red on the carpet surrounding a bigger spot in the place where the shelf hit his leg. Panicking, I back out of the room and sit down on the floor, suddenly dizzy.

I've never been particularly queasy at the sight of blood, so it takes me a few minutes to figure out why I'm freaking out. When I do, I realize it's because I don't know what I would do if I lost Dad. Ever since Mom died when I was five, Dad has been my sun, moon, and stars. He's the only one who keeps me together, even with Ryan and my friends. At the end of the day, it's me and Dad in our little apartment, taking on the world. If Dad were to die, I would be completely screwed. They would ship me off to like with Aunt Mona, Uncle Davis, and their nine kids, who, as much as I love them, I would still not be able to deal with 24/7, or Grandma Blake, who is almost nuttier than peanut brittle, God love her. I need Dad.

As I'm going through all of this in my head, almost to the point of hyperventilation, when there is a knock at the door. "It's open," I whimper as loudly as I can.

Somehow, he manages to hear it, and Chase peeks his head around the door. "Are you okay?" he asks, seeing me curled up on the floor.

I nod, wiping my face. When did I start crying?

He pulls me up off the floor. "Do you want to go visit your dad? I can take you."

I hesitate, but only for a moment. "Yes, please."

We head out to Chase's car. He awkwardly tries to make conversation. Talking about the weather and random gossip about band kids I haven't met yet, tourist attractions and random minor landmarks we pass on the way to the hospital. I just stare out the window, occasionally nodding or acknowledging that he's talking.

"Look," he says as we pulls into the parking lot. "I know that this is rough for you, but it would be great to have an actual conversation. I feel like I'm talking to myself."

"I'm sorry," I say, turning to him for the first time in the whole car ride as he pulls into a spot. "I want to talk to you, and I want to know you. There's just so much stuff that is getting in the way."

Chase nods and opens his car door. He runs around to my side and opens the door for me. We walk toward the hospital silently. Suddenly, my phone rings. Already knowing who it is, I answer it and press it to my ear. "Ryan, what do you want?"

"Hey, baby. What's crackalackin?"

"I'm at the hospital visiting my dad."

"Oh, well, best of luck with that!" He quickly gets off the phone.

I sigh and shove my phone back into my pocket.

"And how is Loverboy today?" Chase laughs.

"Oh, the usual. He's being a pain in the ass."

He turns to me very seriously, "Then why do you stay with him?"

I stop walking and glare at him. "Chase. I love him."

He raises his eyebrows and keeps walking. He spins to look at me and keeps walking backwards as he says, "Do you really love him or do you just not remember how to be without him?"

"I. Love. Him." I say slowly, clearly so as to make myself as clear as possible.

Chase shrugs and spins on his heel, walking four steps ahead of me now. Shaking my head in pure annoyance, I follow him to the elevator. He taps his foot impatiently as he jabs the button, waiting for me so that he can let the doors close. When they finally do, he turns to me again. "I'm sorry if I crossed any lines by saying that. I just have experienced relationships that go on for the wrong reasons, and I know that all they do is hurt everyone involved."

I feel like I've been punched in the chest. My breath catches in my throat. What does this random guy know about my relationship? He barely even knows me, and he thinks he has the authority to give me life advice? I let out a heavy breath and sneak a sideways glance at him. He rocks back on his heels, hands pushed deep into his vest pockets. For the first time, I wonder why he's wearing a vest in this summer heat. I must've wondered it out loud, for he replies, "I like it. That's why." The doors open. He pops his collar with a snapping motion and strolls out of the elevator. Silently fuming, I follow.


	9. 9 Myka

Chase and I step into Dad's hospital room hesitantly. He lies in bed with his broken leg propped up with pillows under his knee. He lifts his head when he hears us enter the room. I run to him as he reaches out his hand. Chase awkwardly sits down on the chair not too far off to the side.

"Myka, how was yesterday and this morning? Okay without me?" Dad is frantic. "Did Chase take care of you alright with driving and stuff? Did you get enough to eat? Did you go to bed at a decent hour? Was there—"

The questions are coming at rapid fire, and I can tell he's beginning to panic, so I cut him off. "Dad, everything was fine. I was responsible. Chase drove. Everything was fine."

He breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I was so worried." He turns to Chase, "Thanks for taking care of her."

Chase looks me in the eyes. It's almost as though he's looking straight through me. He says, "It was really no problem." A chill runs down my spine. Silence falls over us. Dad squeezes my hand.

"So…when are you gonna be able to come home?" I ask him.

He smiles, "They said I would be able to come home tomorrow as long as I don't react badly to any of the drugs they have me on."

I'm immediately concerned. "What all do they have you on?"

He laughs, "Calm down, it's just antibiotics to prevent infection, an anti-inflammatory to prevent swelling and such, and some pretty heavy-duty painkillers. It's nothing to be concerned about."

"Isn't it dangerous to combine all those different medicines?"

"Actually," a new voice comes from the doorway, "in most cases it would be a little risky, as some drugs don't play well with others, but these specific drugs that he's taking help each other out. I'm Dr. Wilson."

"Um, hi," I greet him awkwardly as he steps into the room and looks at Dad's chart.

"Everything looks good to me. You can go today if you want." The doctor smiles, "I'll bring your discharge papers back in a minute."

As Dr. Wilson walks out of the room, a big goofy smile crosses Dad's face. A few minutes later, a nurse steps into the room. With a few pleasantries, she removes Dad's IV drip and tapes a piece of gauze over the needle track. She struggles to help him out of bed and into a wheelchair, so Chase helps her, then goes to bring the car around. Dr. Wilson returns with Dad's prescriptions and discharge papers. Dad is already going on about what we're going to do when we get home as the nurse pushes his wheelchair to the hospital doors. Chase jumps out of the driver's seat and comes around to help Dad into the backseat. I slide the crutches along the floor in front of the seat. Moments later, we're on our way home.

On the highway, when Dad finally runs out of things to say, I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, staring out the window. Now that Dad is in the car with us, Chase and I don't really have anything to say to each other. Granted, it could also be that we're not exactly on good terms from what happened earlier when Ryan called. Then again, I'm always in a bad mood after a call from Ryan.

From the time we started dating, he was more like a drug than a boyfriend. We would spend hours together, completely carefree. I would be high off his company, his kiss, his presence for hours, sometimes days, but I always had to come down from it. Inevitably, the comedown was—is—always bad. I always convinced myself that it was okay because we were in love, but now I'm not so sure.

It really doesn't help that there's suddenly this gorgeous new boy who's questioning my relationship. If his questions and theories were completely out of left field, I wouldn't be that concerned about it, but seeing as they're all things I've thought or wondered myself, I'm starting to think that maybe Ryan isn't so good for me after all.

* * *

**Hey, friends, I'm still kind of new to the wonderful world of FanFiction.**

**I would really appreciate reviews. Advice or pointers or pretty much anything.**

**I'd just like to know that there are people out there reading this.**

**Thanks. I love you all.**


	10. 10 Myka

Getting Dad up the stairs to the apartment is tricky, but we manage. He crutches to the kitchen table and sits down, lifting his leg up onto a chair. Looking around, I see that I should've cleaned up the apartment a bit. There's nothing I can really do about it now, but I push some of the boxes against the wall to make it a little less treacherous.

"Can you make something? Hospital food is gross," he tells me.

"Sure," I reply quietly as I pull out a box of macaroni and cheese. After a few awkward minutes of stirring, I think aloud, "I can't wait until we're settled in so I can start cooking real food instead of moving food."

Dad laughs once, a short, staccato laugh. "It will be nice to have some real food, won't it?

I chuckle, "Absolutely." Once I finish up the noodles, and Dad and I eat pretty much in silence. We're finished and I'm putting the dishes in the dishwasher when it dawns on me-  
"Dad, where are you gonna sleep tonight?"

He leans back in his chair, stretching. "That…is an excellent question." He looks around. "I'm guessing my bed still isn't set up."

"No, not really. You're welcome to sleep in mine. It's closer to the bathroom, anyway."

"Are you sure? I can sleep on the floor…" he offers.

"Really, take my bed. It's gonna be impossible for you to get up off the floor in the morning." I assure him.

He stares at me. "As long as you're sure."

I nod and start to laugh. "I am."

He smiles, "Thank you."

I head into my room and clear the floor as best I can of boxes and moving debris. On the way out, I snag my sleeping bag. After helping Dad into my bed, I take a deep breath and push his bedroom door open. The little red dots are still on the carpet, exactly where they were before. I roll out my sleeping bag on the floor of his walk-in closet and close the door, just so I don't have to look at the blood or the shelf. I'm sure when Dad heals, I'll be fine, but right now, I'm still pretty freaked out. The thought of even possibly losing Dad terrifies me.

Once I was all tucked in, I curled up against the wall and quickly fell into a long, dreamless sleep.

* * *

**I know this is suuuuper short, but I had a really hard time writing it.**

**Stick around. We'll be getting into band camp soon! :)**

**Reviews are much appreciated!**


	11. 11 Myka

I don't see him for twelve days, exactly.

"You have a casserole."

These are the ingenious first words I say to him after seeing to trace of him for over a week. Brilliant one, Myk.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, I do. My mom made it." He avoids looking me in the eye and holds out the casserole dish.

"Thanks." Taking it from him, I pause. "Do you wanna come in?"

He rubs the back of his neck. "Uh, sure, I guess."

I awkwardly turn and walk back up the stairs. He awkwardly follows. Awkwardly. There's nothing about the situation that isn't awkward. I put the casserole in the freezer. "Do you want something to drink?"

He coughs, "Um, yeah, sure. Mountain Dew?"

"Ha. Water or milk?"

He smiles. "Water, please."

I pour him a Mason jar full of water with a ton of ice and set it in front of him.

"This is a jar," he observes.

I laugh again. "Yeah, it is. Your point?"

"It's not a glass."

"It's made of glass."

"But it's not A glass."

"So?"

"So people don't drink out of jars."

"Says you."

"Say I."

That's when I realize that our faces are inches away from each other. I note that his eyes are completely the purest blue I have ever seen. It's almost like he's staring straight through me, and before I even know what's happening, he leans the slightest bit forward and presses his lips against mine.

It shocks me. I freeze, then push him away with an index finger to the chest. It's not like I'm not enjoying this beautiful boy coming onto me, but I haven't gotten up the nerve to break up with Ryan yet.

"Chase, this is not okay."

His face falls. "Yeah, I figured. I just…I don't even know…I'm gonna go now." He stands up and runs down the stairs and out of the apartment, closing the door behind him, leaving me standing there not knowing what to do.

After an extremely long moment standing frozen in the kitchen, I wonder out loud, "Is this real life?"

Dad, from the other room, replies, "Yes, honey, it is!"

I sigh and, aggravated, dump the glass of water into the sink. I don't even bother going back to what I was doing, which was trying to hook up the DVD player and Xbox. Instead, I slump off to my room, turn my headphones up, and take a nap. I'm asleep before I even hit the pillow.

When I wake up, it's dark. A look at my phone tells me that it's quarter to midnight. My stomach rumbles, and I realize I haven't had anything to eat since noon. When I head out to the kitchen for a snack, there's half a pot of macaroni and cheese sitting on the stove. There's a sticky note on the lid where Dad has written 8:15, which I'm guessing is when he made the mac. He knows how I get about dairy that's been sitting out too long. I turn the stove on and reconstitute the noodles a bit, then eat them with a wooden straight out of the pot.

That's when my cell phone rings.

Looking at the caller ID, I sigh, then answer it. "What do you want, Ryan?"

"Zat a'yway da tack tuh da luvaya life?" There's something off about his voice.

"Dammit, Ryan, are you drunk?" I demand.

"Mayber jus a little," he slurs.

"Ryan, you've got to stop drinking. Especially with your meds," I remind him. He's been taking a new experimental mood stabilizer to tame his hypomania. Most of the time, it isn't a problem, but sometimes it gets a little out of hand and he gets…controlling…aggressive…pushy…whatever you want to call it.

"Iown't e'en care, bisch." His slurring is getting worse.

"Ryan, you can't talk to me like that," I tell him calmly.

"No!" He yells. It's the first clear word he's said the whole conversation. "Don't dellme whatta do!"

"Ryan!" I exclaim frantically. I'm losing my patience with him. "You cannot treat me like this! It's over!"

"A wuh?" It's not even a word that I can decode. It's his confusion and drunken angst all wrapped up into a sound.

"Ryan," I repeat more calmly. "It's over. We're done. I can't do this anymore. I shouldn't have let it go on this long, but I did. And now I'm done."

He starts to say something, but I cut him off by ending the call and tossing the phone across the room. It lands on the carpet and slides, tapping the baseboard with a dull thwack. That's when I realize I'm crying, sitting on the living room floor against the kitchen wall, and I don't know why. I feel like I'm drowning in the silence of the apartment, like my oxygen is being cut off and I'm gasping for breath. Gently, I fall to the side, curled up into a ball, and fall asleep once more.

* * *

**Hey! I hope all of you are well!**

**This is probably the weirdest chapter I've written of this thus far, but I dunno, I like it. I had fun writing it.**

**Let me know what you think! (That means review, please!)**


	12. 12 Myka

I wake up, and for a moment, everything is normal.

The sunlight is streaming through the glass doors, birds are tweeting outside and the ducks quacking by the pond. I sit up and stare out the window at the pure, blue, cloudless sky.

Then I remember what happened yesterday, and I smile. Ryan and I are broken up. I didn't think it would feel this good. I don't even remember what my life was like before Ryan, but if it was anything like this feel I have right now, then I don't know why I ever gave it up. As I'm sitting there, my phone rings. It's Jill.

"Myka, what did you do to Ryan?" She seems a little frantic.

"I broke up with him. Why?"

"He just threw up in my mom's azaleas. Twice."

"What? Why?"

"Well, it would seem as though he's not only hungover, but he's trying to cure his broken heart by having breakfast with José."

"Cuervo?" I ask nervously, afraid of the answer.

"Man's best friend," she replies sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, Jill."

"Yeah, me, too," she admits. _Click._

I let the phone drop to the floor, waiting for guilt or sadness to set it, but all I feel is sorry for Jill and her mom's azaleas for having to deal with Wasted Ryan so early in the day…or even at all. That boy is a terror when he's drunk. I sigh and send up a silent prayer for Jill before getting up and going to shower.

For the first time in a very long time, I sing in the shower. I sing Kelly Clarkson, Parachute, Hot Chelle Rae, Owl City, Fun, Fall Out Boy, and Avril Lavigne. By the time I turn the water off, I feel amazing. When I open the bathroom door, however, I hear something: a knock at the door. I pause for a moment before pulling my towel tighter around my body and running to get the door.

"Um, hi," Chase says when I open the door. "Is this a bad time?"

"Um," I look around as if the answer is written on the wall or the doorframe. "Yeah, come in. I'll get dressed really quick."

He closes the door behind him and follows me up the stairs. I silently thank God that my bath towel is one of the big, fluffy ones and not one of the tiny, falling-apart ones that Dad refuses to throw away. Chase awkwardly takes a place at the kitchen table as I rush into my room to get dressed. I tear my dresser drawers apart. Why do I have no clean clothes? Finally, I find a pair of running shorts and a V-neck. I towel my hair dry as best I can, but it just looks like a tousled mess. Giving up, I go hang my towel up then head back out to talk to Chase.

"Hey, Chase. Did you need something?" I ask him

He stares at me.

"Chase?"

"What?"

I laugh, "Why are you here?"

"Oh! I, um, just wanted to, um, apologize for yesterday." He's having a really hard time getting the words out.

"Oh, um, yeah," I start awkwardly, brushing it off as I go over to the counter and start to make myself a cup of tea. "Don't even worry about it."

"No, really," he's getting the hang of this talking thing now. "I was a jerk about the whole jar thing, and then I tried to kiss you, and that was a really douchebag thing to do especially cuz you're dating Ryan and obviously that's not going anywhere anytime soon and…" He's rambling now, so I cut him off by loudly closing the microwave.

"We broke up."

He freezes. "What?"

"Last night, Ryan drunk dialed me and I broke up with him." I nonchalantly punch in a minute to heat up the water while I speak so that breaking up with Ryan doesn't seem like one of the most difficult things I've ever done.

"Woah," he gasps, staring at me.

"What?" I take the canister with all the teabags in it out of the cabinet and rummage around for an Earl Grey.

"I just wasn't expecting you to actually break up with him."

"What WERE you expecting then, Chase?" I slam the tea canister down on the counter. "You to just play games with me and me to just let my douchebag boyfriend go on thinking that I love him when I'm CLEARLY into someone else?"

He falls silent and starts to play with the Rubik's Cube my dad left sitting on the table.

"Sorry," I say quietly. "I didn't mean for that to be so harsh."

"No, I don't know what I was expecting, either. I just…" He pauses for a long time. It's almost like he forgot that he was speaking until the microwave beeps, telling me my water is hot enough. "I really like you."

I almost drop my mug. The words hang in the air for a very long, excruciating moment before I bring myself to speak. "You what?"

"I like you. I _like_ you. I like _you_," he repeats. "You're different from the other girls around here. I don't even know what it is. You're just different. You're better."

I'm speechless. I'm not even making tea anymore. I'm just standing at the counter staring at him, tea package ripped open halfway in my hands.

After a long pause, he starts again, "Please say something." He's sitting at the table nervously rubbing his hands together.

I open and close my mouth a couple of times and eventually manage a sentence that pretty much sums up my feelings for Chase thus far.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

* * *

**Hi, friends.**

**I like tea.**

**Review, please!**

**I love you all.**


	13. 13 Myka

It's the weirdest tea time of my life.

I'm sitting on one side of the table with my Earl Grey with milk and honey, while Chase is sitting on the other with his Highland Breakfast. He's stirring and stirring and stirring it. He has been for several minutes. I still can't believe that he just told me that he likes me. That's just such a weird thing to come out and say, especially when I've known him for so short a time.

"Chase, I think you're good," I advise him.

"Oh, okay." He quits stirring, finally, and takes a sip. "That's really good."

"It's my favorite. I'm just in an Earl Grey mood today."

"I seeeeeeee." He draws the last word out for a long time and smiles.

I laugh, "You're kind of weird."

"You don't even know me very well and you're saying that. Just you wait. I get ridiculous." He licks his spoon and hangs it on his nose, which, while super weird, is actually kind of impressive. "See?"

I laugh again. "So you _like_ me?"

He lets the spoon drop onto the table. "Why is that so hard for you to believe? We've been over this twice now."

"I just think it's funny." I stick my tongue out at him. He sticks his right back out at me.

"Why do you think it's so funny?" He eats a vanilla wafer.

"I just do."

"But why?"

"Why do I have to have a reason?"

"Oh, I get it." A new look comes over his face. "You_ like_ me."

"And what if I do?"

He just smiles. That's when his phone rings. When he looks down at it, his smile vanishes. He accepts the call. "Yeah?...No…what do you-…okay…okay…I'll be right there…Bye." He ends the call. His smile doesn't return when he looks back up at me. "I'm so sorry. I have to go. It's my mom."

I try to hide my disappointment as I say, "Oh, that's okay. I'll see you soon, yeah?"

He nods and fakes a smile. "Of course." Just like that, he's gone again. I'm sitting alone at my kitchen table on another afternoon. I should be used to it by now, but, surprisingly enough, I'm still not. I don't think I ever will be. Suddenly, my tea doesn't taste good anymore.

I get up and pour both cups down the sink.

* * *

**Hello amigos!**

**Sorry it's so short and has so little plot.**

**Tell me what you think :)**


	14. 14 Chase

Things started to change for me when New Girl and her dad moved in across the courtyard.

She was beautiful and I really hadn't been interested in anyone since Alicia and I split up. I don't know what I was thinking when I started helping her dad move in. Or when I continued helping her move in. Or when I told her about myself. Or when I took her to the hospital. Or when I took her to the hospital the SECOND time. Or when I blew her off for that week and a half. Or when I kissed her. Or when I had tea with her today. I mean, what the hell? I don't even like tea that much!

I still can't believe I kissed her. That was just ridiculous. There was a clear boundary what with her having a boyfriend, if Ryan could really have even qualified as that, and I completely crossed it. I still can't believe she broke up with Ryan. I never thought that would happen. I didn't even mean to say it out loud. Then she started yelling at me and I could definitely tell she was having a rough morning, so I tried to dig myself out of it, and the words just sort of…tumbled out. I like you. I can't believe I told her that. I've been kicking myself ever since then. Everyone knows that you never tell a girl you like her because it makes you look like an idiot. I broke the cardinal rule! And the OTHER cardinal rule, which is: don't get attached. Ever since what happened with Alicia, I've been trying to keep my distance from everything.

This is the first time I've ever even said her name since the accident. Alicia. Our eight-month anniversary was on Christmas Eve, so we waited a few days to celebrate. There was a terrible ice storm on Christmas Day, but we went ahead with our plans to go to dinner two days later. The roads were treacherous. I didn't trust myself to drive, so she snow chained up her tires and we went to dinner. Everything was perfect until we went to drive home. Trying to avoid the highway, we took a back road home from the restaurant. On the way down the hill, her wheels spun out, despite such careful driving, and the car spun in a complete circle. Another car came around the blind corner at that moment, slamming into Alicia's side of the car.

I knew she was dead. I sat there in my seat. My face and arm was bleeding from the broken glass, but I was just sitting in the passenger seat, silently screaming. I watched in slow motion as she hit her head on the window as the car spun, as she smashed her face into the steering wheel, as the air bags deployed, shoving her back, as she fell forward against the wheel a second time. Tears streaked through the blood on my face. I knew there was no way she could've survived it.

I was in denial for a month. I missed a lot of school, only some of which because I was in the hospital, and I basically just dropped out of the world. Therapy started to help after a while, and I started to heal. There were many late nights spent at church and awake in my room, but eventually I did heal. I wrote her a piece. Only two weeks before New Girl moved in, I finished the piece and played it at Alicia's grave. For the first time, I felt closure.

Don't get me wrong; I still miss her every day, but I almost feel like Alicia sent New Girl to help me move on. Myka is Alicia's, "Hey, you deserve to be happy again."

* * *

**I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update. Life happened.**

**I had band camp and then I had to update my other story and I was stuck in the middle of writing this chapter and I got a virus, and then I got pneumonia and then I broke my face...so basically I just have time right now, but I dunno when I will again. Hopefully soon.**

**This one is a little different, soooooo tell me what you think. Seriously. I haven't gotten reviews in several chapters and it's making me nervous.**


	15. 15 Chase

When I left Myka's, I made my way back over to my apartment, where Mom is hectically running about, trying to get ready for work. My five year old brother, Michael, is lying on the floor, quietly coloring a picture of Spiderman.

Mom comes out of her bathroom and begins to explain as she puts on earrings. "Zoe called. She's sick and can't watch him today. Just keep an eye on him and make some dinner around five. I'm working until close, so I shouldn't be back until late. Bedtime for him is—"

"Seven thirty. I know. I've done this before, Mom. I've got this." I smile to reassure her.

As she runs out the door, she shouts a few last minute directions, which I ignore, mostly because I already know what she's asking and I'm going to do it anyway. Her car door slams and the car peals out of the parking lot. I roll my eyes. She's going to destroy her car if she keeps driving like that.

"So what are we gonna do today, Chase?" Michael doesn't bother to look up from his coloring book.

I sigh. "Probably nothing."

He stops coloring and sits up, looking at me. "We could go to the playground. Or the pool. Or the park. Or the toy store!" His little six-year-old face lights up.

I laugh, "Nice try, Mikey." I pause, trying to decide. "Go get your shoes on. You can go to the playground."

"Cool!" He jumps up off the floor and runs into our room. I pick up my guitar from its stand by the door and go sit on the back patio. A moment later, Michael flashes by me and runs to the playground, which is barely ten feet from our back door. I sit and strum a little bit. After a few minutes, strumming turns to working chord progressions, and eventually I find myself playing and singing softly. Before I even know what's happening, I'm belting out Dashboard Confessional.

I finish and suddenly there's clapping. I look up to see Myka sitting on top of the monkey bars, grinning down at me as she applauds.

"Ha-ha," I joke. "Don't patronize me, sweetheart."

"Why would I be patronizing you? That was amazing!"

I laugh, "Yeah, okay, whatever." Setting my guitar down, I change the subject, "What brings you over to our neck of the woods, anyway?"

Myka shrugs. "Dad's taking a nap. I got bored just sitting around, thought I'd wander around, check out the sights."

"Yeah, the 'sights.' Suuuuuure."

Without losing her smile, she narrows her eyes and swings herself down and lightly sets her feet on the red rubber playground pad. "If these aren't the sights, then show me something worth seeing."

* * *

**I'm so sorry!**

**School is kicking my ass. I have ten million things going on. Today I didn't go to school though, so I just got to watch Netflix and update.**

**Thanks for reading! I'll probably put another up today if I can.**


	16. 16 Chase

"Michael!"

"Yeah?" His head pops up over the top of the bridge guardrails.

"C'mere!" I call him down.

Within fifteen seconds, Michael appears at my side. He peers curiously up at Myka. "You're my brother's friend, aren't you?"

Myka smiles and nods, bending down to his level. "Yup. I'm Myka." She sticks out her hand.

"We have almost the same name! I'm Michael!" He shakes her hand.

"Do you wanna show me around?" She asks him.

He nods vigorously, with a big grin plastered across his face, then takes her by the hand and starts to pull her away, pointing around at different things. Quickly, I stash my guitar inside and catch up to them. Michael shows her the playground, the pool, the little field, the duck pond, and the front office, before he runs out of things to show her.

"Come on, Michael," I beckon him. "Let's go in the car and show her everything else."

"O-kay!" He basically hops to the car.

Myka falls into step next to me. "You know you don't have to do that," she reminds me quietly.

"I know," I smile, "but I want to."

I take back roads up past the high school and Michael's grade school and a couple of restaurants up to the mall, at which Myka sort of shrugs. I keep driving past stores and restaurants and other random places. I finally stop when we come to a café a little ways off the main road. It's one of my favorite places, but we hardly ever go there, so I usually end up dragging my friends. Alicia took me there for the first time the day after she got her driver's license. I try not to think about it as we sit down at a booth.

"Dinner is on me tonight. Get whatever you want."

"Sweet!" Michael yells, picking up the kids menu and reading it. "I want macaroni!" He loses interest in it quickly and starts coloring the placemat.

Myka and I both laugh. "You can have macaroni," I assure him. Then, turning to Myka, I say, "They have really good burgers."

She nods and flips the menu over to the burger section. I don't even bother looking at the menu. I get the same thing every time. Instead, I look around at the cartoon posters, old-fashioned jukebox, and Elvis memorabilia. Or at least, I pretend to. I steal glances at Myka every chance I get and just try not to stare.

"You know I can I see you, right?" Myka says, without looking up, after a few minutes.

I immediately look away and pretend I wasn't looking at her. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a smile spread across her face. She closes the menu and looks up at me. She opens her mouth to say something but before she gets the chance, a waitress descends upon our table and takes our order.

"I'll have a cheeseburger, straight up, and a glass of Mountain Dew, please." Gesturing to Michael, I continue, "He'll have a kids' order of mac and cheese and a fruit punch."

"And I'll have…" she glances down at her menu one more time. "The downtown burger, please. With ketchup and mayo."

* * *

**Don't even worry. I have another update for right after I post this one. Yay reading material!**

**Working on the school and the healing. Who knew being a senior would be so hectic?**

**Thank you for continuing to follow this! I really appreciate it!**


	17. 17 Chase

After the waitress leaves, Myka locks her eyes on mine. "So what should I know about this town?"

I laugh and glance over at Michael, who is highly focused on his coloring. "There's really not that much you need to know."

"Oh, please, there's always something that you should know about a new school that no one thinks to tell you. Tell me anything. Tell me about band."

I lean back in my chair. "Band…band…what can I tell you about band?"

"Anything," she repeats.

"Welllllllll," I tease her.

"Come on. Anything."

"Bradfield is weird. He's really intense about band, but the moment that rehearsal ends, he becomes more like a cool uncle than a band director. Pakowski is great. He's brilliant in terms of music and marching and teaching, but he's also sarcastic and sometimes funny," I explain.

"Yeah? And what about the kids?" she presses.

"I dunno what band was like at your old school, but here, it's like a big, messy family. You have the people that get along, and the people that tolerate each other, and the people that can't stand each other, but at the end of the day, we're all band kids. We back each other up to the Peasants, and there's always a place among family."

"Ohana?" she giggles.

"Yeah," I laugh back. "Ohana. Family. Nobody gets left behind. It's funny you said that, though, cuz we're going to Hawaii this year. That's our spring trip."

Her jaw drops wide open. "GET OUT!"

I can't help but laugh. Her face is absolutely priceless. "It's true. We got a letter from the governor asking that we play this military event thing."

"You live in Missouri," she states clearly.

"You live here, too, now. And it's a ceremony for the USS Missouri. It's kind of a big deal."

"So you're being serious right now?" Her eyes widen just the slightest.

"Serious as a heart attack," I laugh, then catch myself. "Not to make light of heart attacks or anything…"

"No, I get you," she replies. Neither of us knows what to say after that, so we just sort of stare at each other for a moment.

That's when she smiles.

It's like the whole world has come to a complete halt. Time slows down. Literally, I can feel my watch ticking slower. Granted, that might just be the dying battery, but that's not the point. Myka smiles, and she's just so beautiful that I stare at her with this dorky smile on my face for what feels like days.

Our food comes, and I snap out of it. Conversation resumes as we begin eating. Michael starts in about Spiderman, leaving me a bit of time to think. That's when I realize that since the day I met Alicia, I haven't seen a girl so beautiful as Myka.

* * *

**As promised, a second update for today. I really hope you're enjoying them.**

**This will probably be my last update for a week or so (maybe longer, hopefully not) because I have to be a functioning member of society. Also I have other stories that I've been neglecting as of late. (One of them is Merlin, the other Baby Daddy, if you're interested.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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